


Heart Like Mine

by oneswhonever



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Best Friends, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, House Party, Identity Issues, M/M, Male Friendship, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Senior year, Sexuality Crisis, Sleepovers, for reasons or not wanting to call him new kid the whole time, josh is a good generic name, new kid's name is josh in this, this might end up sucking tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneswhonever/pseuds/oneswhonever
Summary: No matter how much Tweek hopes that things will someday be different, he's long since learned how to face facts: most things, and most people, don't change in South Park. Sometimes (when it comes to Craig Tucker) that can be a good thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first ever work in this fandom, so I apologize if it's not quite up to par. I have so many ideas for this story though, so it's my hope that people will enjoy this! We're in for the long run with this one!

"Guys, I'll tell you again since you're clearly not listening to me: Bebe was actually so into me last night. You wouldn't think I was so crazy if you had seen it."

"So you keep saying, but again, you've been delusional like this before."

Tweek can hardly listen to his friends go on like this all day. The very first day of senior year, and of course they were all going at it, bright and early at seven in the morning. He would never understand how they could talk about the same old thing, day after day, without going mad. Frankly, he was getting tired of hearing about Clyde and his ongoing infatuation with Bebe Stevens, who has been curving him since the beginning. He had been listening to it since elementary school, and at this point, he thought it was stupid that the two were continuously beating around the bush and Clyde had never even asked her out on a proper date. 

However, Tweek is the last person in the world who would offer adequate relationship advice, so he often kept his mouth shut during these disputes. 

"Shut up, Craig," sneered Clyde from the driver's seat, looking up into the mirror to check his appearance for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He was certain that if Clyde took his eyes off the road  _one more time_ they would end up in a car wreck. "You have actually no place to talk about my love life."

"You don't have a love life," Craig rebuked from his spot next to Tweek in the backseat. He had one earbud hanging loosely out of his ear, and he was cupping an energy drink in a bright green can. Just the smell of it made Tweek want to hurl. He brought his travel mug up to his face and inhaled softly, trying to catch a whiff of something that  _wasn't_ overloaded with sugar and calories. He wished Craig could get into a habit of drinking coffee instead, if only for the sake of his nose. "Other than your imaginary one, that is."

"You know, ten bucks says I can get her to be my Homecoming date."

They had a similar bet last year, and Craig had ended up ten dollars richer. He snorted, "Yeah, okay. You're going to pussy out again and you're not even going to ask. You have to pay up if you don't."

"Okay, but I _will_." 

As the car came to a halt in the school's parking lot, Tweek was quick to hop out - as was Token, who gave the blonde a knowing look from the corner of his eye. Clutching tight to his travel mug, Tweek took a moment to take a look around. Everything  _felt_ different, and yet, everything was exactly the same. He recognized every single person he saw. He could close his eyes and navigate the way to all of his classes. Every ding and dent in the school could be easily identified. 

Nothing in South Park ever changed. 

"Look, man," Craig is saying as soon as he and Clyde get out of the car, leading Tweek to believe that they were _still_ going on about something. "All I'm saying is that you probably shouldn't get your hopes up, alright?"

"Way to be supportive, dickhead," was Clyde's response. He sighed, and looked at the building before them. "I'm so glad this is our last year in this hellhole. It's going to be the best year ever."

Tweek was glad at least someone was being optimistic. He himself was not ready for the impending year at all. This was the gateway to adulthood, wherein he would actually have to make some lifelong decisions that he was not yet ready to make. He had yet to decide if college was on the table or not. His parents wanted him around full-time at the coffee shop, but he wasn't so keen on working under them for the rest of his life. He was playing with the idea of moving out of South Park and finally becoming independent. The city of Denver, though bustling, sparked an interest. At least he would have a change of scenery; maybe he could break out of the normal routines that he had been going through since elementary.

"Yeah," Craig snorted, coming over to Tweek and interlocking their arms - a habit he had yet to break, which frequently led people to believe that they were involved, which couldn't be farther from the truth. Tweek always let it happen. Being around Craig was comfortable - he'd let Craig touch him however he pleased. He looked to the blonde this time around, instead of paying attention to Clyde - who was now harassing Token, that poor soul. "You have History first hour, right? With Jacobson?"

Tweek nodded shortly, but didn't speak. He didn't have to. "Good. I think Cartman is in that class and just  _thinking_ about seeing him and Heidi suck face all day is making me sick."

Never in a million years would Tweek have ever predicted a relationship between Eric Cartman (no one calls him  _Eric_ besides his mother and his girlfriend; Tweek is pretty sure it's mostly out of spite at this point) and Heidi Turner. The two were always an unlikely match, and especially because Cartman was easily the most sexist, misogynistic person in the school. However, they had been together for years at this point. Sometimes they had rough patches of bitterness and not speaking, mostly on Cartman's end, but they always came back from it. 

They acted more like friends than they did a couple. Tweek had to wonder what the point of dating even  _was_ _,_ when that was the case. He hated to think about what they did in their alone time, so he simply didn't. 

"It's not like they're going to make out in class," Tweek said, though he knew better.

"Who? Heidi and fatass?" A sudden voice from behind asked, and Tweek didn't even have to turn around to know it was Kyle. The ginger (who had long since accepted his unruly abomination of hair and ditched the hat) was suddenly at his side, the "new kid" trailing behind him by only a few feet. Tweek would personally never grow out of calling Josh "new kid." He only started talking in middle school after a  _long_ silence in elementary, and by that point, calling him Douchebag or New Kid was commonplace. His real name, he revealed, was Josh - but few people got into the habit of calling him that. "Of course they will."

"Yeah," said the new kid - _Josh_ , Tweek thought,  _call him Josh._ He had grown up to be rather handsome himself, with striking black hair framing his features, and sharp green eyes that could pierce right through your skull, Tweek was sure. He had a surprisingly deep voice as well, in comparison to most others. "Just last night they were shedding clothes at the movies."

"Gross," Craig complained, squeezing Tweek's arm for emphasis. "I didn't need that mental image."

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the assembly?" Tweek asked Kyle, wanting to change the subject. 

"I tried getting a hold of Wendy, but she's not here yet," Kyle groaned, and from his side, Josh smirked - seeming to find this amusing. "How can I prepare a speech when my vice isn't even here? To think that she was almost president, ugh."

Everyone knew Kyle crushed her in the election last year. The only reason he even offered to make her vice president was because she cried when she lost. Surely the position would have gone to Stan otherwise - he had always been Kyle's second in command. No matter how much the raven-haired boy claimed that he was unbothered (too busy with football to even  _think_ about being on student council), Kyle still seemed to regret his decision. 

"Almost president my ass," chimed Clyde, who was trailing behind by several feet, his arm slung around Token's broad shoulders loosely. "No one voted for Wendy, dude."

"Except for you," Craig countered, and Tweek laughed. 

"It was a ploy," Clyde insisted, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around Craig's neck, pulling him back and away from Tweek. With Clyde's warm touch gone, Tweek shivered. "I did it to get in Bebe's good books. Vote for her best friend, ya know?"

"And how'd that work for you?" Josh teased, and Clyde scowled. "It was my understanding that you're still trapped in the friend zone."

"If even that," Tweek laughed, suddenly feeling more and more spirited. When he woke up that morning, he was plagued with a sense of impending doom about the day, but that feeling was slowly fading out. "She spends most of her time ignoring him."

Clyde whined, "Guys, cut it  _out._ "


	2. Chapter 2

"We are a  _day_ into this shit and I already want to give up," Stan was complaining the minute Kyle joined him at their lunch table, sulking over a bulky government textbook. "Who assigns an entire chapter of reading on the first day?"

"Regretting your decision to take the advanced classes?" Kyle inquired, taking out his lunch from his backpack. When Stan had announced that he was planning to take college-level courses during their senior year, it had taken every fiber of Kyle's being not to burst out laughing. Stan certainly wasn't stupid, but those courses were killer - and Kyle knew that from firsthand experience. Stan nodded, tabbing his page and shutting the book with a loud sigh. "Well, you've got me. We can work through it together."

Stan smiled, leaning over and stealing a chip from his best friend's lunch. "Well, guess you're good for something, then." They both laughed, but Stan's face was quick to even back out into a look of somberness. "Seriously, thanks man. I wouldn't be going anywhere if it weren't for you."

Kyle still maintained his smile as he leaned over and bumped Stan's arm. "You're Stan Marsh. Captain of the football team, quarterback. Not to mention all your volunteer work. It'd be ridiculous if you didn't get your scholarship. Schoolwork doesn't mean everything."

"That's easy for you to say. You're good at it."

Kyle frowned, but the second that Kenny and Wendy approached the table, he decided to address his vice instead. "Hey, real nice of you to abandon me this morning. I had to give that speech by myself."

"You killed it," Kenny commented.

"Sorry, I was running late," was Wendy's excuse, and Kyle could see Stan rolling his eyes. They broke up for the final time in Sophomore year, and it was evident that Stan didn't miss her one bit. He had been torn up for a little while, but he was quick to get over it - mostly due to moments like these. Kyle looked at her, expecting more. "Okay, I was helping Bebe - with something that is really none of your business."

Kyle frowned, but it was Stan who jumped in. "Maybe you shouldn't have begged to be vice if you knew you couldn't handle the responsibilities. Just a thought."

"Bite me, Stan."

"We are _not_ having this conversation right now," Kenny groaned through a mouthful of bologna sandwich. "It's too early in the morning for you two to get into a lover's quarrel."

A quick glance at his phone told Kyle that it was a little past noon, but he declined to comment on that. "I don't care about your excuses, Wendy. If you can't be there, you can't be there. However, I _would_ appreciate a little advanced warning next time." He sighed, leaning over and pressing his face onto the table, using his lunchbox as a makeshift pillow. "The niners this year are unbelievable. Everyone is getting worse and worse as we age."

"You're telling me," remarked Josh as he sat down next to Wendy, comically dropping a few crumpled up pieces of paper onto the table. Kyle looked up just long enough to realize that they were phone numbers, scrawled in smudged ink. Josh even had seven digits in black marker on his arm - faded black marker, but definitely still there. He must've been unsuccessful in trying to wash it off. "All these little girls trying to give me their number...it's not even  _legal._ "

"You're the only person I know that would complain about girls wanting your dick," Kenny commented.

"Lovely lunch conversation," Stan scowled, flipping his book back open to the tabbed page. 

"Don't  _even_ tell me you guys are doing homework at lunch," a brash voice cut in, as Cartman flopped down in the spot across from Josh, smashed in right next to Kyle. Heidi was lagging only inches behind, and took the seat right next to her boyfriend, pushed in uncomfortably close to his side. Kyle rolled his eyes. "And what kind of class gives homework on the first day?" 

"Classes that you're stupid to comprehend," Stan rebuked, not even offering a glance up. "Now, please keep it down. I'm trying to focus and I don't need your mindless chatter while I do."

Cartman reached over and promptly shut the lid of the textbook. "You do not _make_ the lunch rules. You can do that at home, can you not?"

Kenny groaned. "Do  _not_ get him started."

But Stan had already started, steadily glaring in Cartman's direction. "I can't, actually. My parents are finalizing the divorce and arguing like crazy. I would love to see  _anybody_ try to work with all that shit going on."

If this divorce was anything like their first divorce, Kyle knew that Stan's parents would be back together in a month or less. Over the years, they fought a lot, and had threatened divorce many times - they were following through this time, and were in the process of selling the house. Kyle felt bad for his friend, but looking at it realistically, he knew that things would end up being okay.

They always were. That had never changed. This was like clockwork. 

"What happened this time?" Cartman groaned, but everyone at the table knew he didn't want an actual answer. Heidi looked uncomfortable. "Your skank mom finally come to her senses and find a new man?"

"Dude," Josh deadpanned in Stan's defense, his tone warning.

"My mom is  _not_ a skank. I'm sure that's a new concept for you, seeing as-"

"Don't go there, Stan."

"Maybe you shouldn't have said it then, fatass!"

Kyle leaned over and flipped Stan's textbook back open for him, sliding a pen out of his backpack simultaneously. "Ignore him, man. Come on. Let's work through some of this."

Kyle had really grown used to the role of peacemaker in the past few years. He had to be one. It used to be Stan, but since the impending divorce, he had been all bent out of shape - ready to fight whoever wanted to get on his nerves on a particular day. For the time being Kyle was ready to put down the guns and after a while of ignoring Cartman and all his comments, the brunette just let him be. 

He always needed someone to argue with, though. Stan let himself be that person. Kyle wished that they could just ignore one another. Maybe then, they could have a tension-free lunch every once in awhile. 

"What are we working on?" Josh asked, leaning over to see the book. Clearly, he was just happy to be changing the subject. He also had a lot of beef with Cartman (who was still insistent on calling him "Douchebag" even though most people grew out of that when they were, what, ten?), but also had a tendency to ignore all the ribbing. Cartman didn't have as much fun picking on people when they wouldn't play along. "Oh, government? Count me in. This shit was always a breeze for me."

"You're all so  _lame._ "


	3. Chapter 3

"So then it hit me: party."

"A party is a bad idea, actually."

"How could a party be a bad idea? Name me  _one_ person who doesn't like parties."

"Me. Tweek."

"Okay, but like, someone who  _matters._ "

"Fuck you, Clyde."

Craig often had to wonder about the people he chose to surround himself with. Clyde Donovan had been his best friend since they were bopping around in the playpen, at least - growing up, "best friend" was a better choice of words than "only friend." As they grew up, their social circle expanded to include a plethora of new people that Craig didn't much care for. Clyde had been his best option. These days, that was almost doubtful - for no reason other than the fact the brunet was just about delusional. 

He could handle their exclusive little group. Himself, Clyde, Tweek, Token, and sometimes Jimmy (who was surprisingly popular in high school, due probably in part to how sociable he was; Craig couldn't blame him for wanting all the glory of new, improved friendships). When North Park and South Park's school districts were integrated, Craig really retreated back into the old crowd of people - which regretfully included Eric Cartman and his merry band of lapdogs. He liked Stan, Kyle, and Josh well enough, but he was very partial to Kenny and Cartman. They were better than all of the new kids, though, so he made do. 

"So, obviously we need to talk guest list," Token said, and Craig's eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't believe that his friend was on board. He usually didn't fall victim to Clyde and his schemes.

"Not exclusive," Clyde boasted. "I want this to be  _huge._ All the guys and all the girls from our class."

"No North Park scum," Craig groaned. 

"Okay, but who else is going to bring the party favors?" Clyde asked, lifting an eyebrow. Craig rolled his eyes. "North Park might be trash, but at least there will be no shortage of alcohol."

"What if we get busted?" Tweek fretted, nervously picking at the skin around his nails - pulling at his cuticles and causing his fingers to bleed. Craig felt an overwhelming desire to reach over and hold his hands, just to get him to stop. He promptly stuffed his hands inside his pockets, attempting and failing to push the urge to the back of his mind. "If the cops catch a bunch of minors with alcohol-"

Clyde snorted. "Please. As if the cops in this shithole care about what a bunch of teenagers do. Don't you think they have more important things to be dealing with?"

"Underage drinking  _is_ illegal."

"We're not going to get caught," said Craig, leaning over and hesitantly placing one of his hands on top of Tweek's. He was glad that Clyde and Token, in the front seats, couldn't see. The blonde gave him an inquisitive look. "Stop worrying so much."

"Does this mean you're on board?" Clyde asked excitedly, at the same time Tweek seemed to slump down a little in his seat, his cheeks beginning to flush with color. "You're never on board. This is going to be the  _best._ "

"As if me being on board sways your decision at all," Craig scoffed, his hand tightening around Tweek's, as a way of emphasizing his point. He was fully aware of the blond still quizzically staring at him, but he chose to ignore it - if he acknowledged the look, he would have to let go, and he didn't care to do that. Any sort of physical contact with Tweek brought with it a wave of good feelings - which, in Craig's world, were rare, so he liked to savor them whilst he was able to do so. "You're going to throw your stupid party whether I want you to or not."

"That's right," Clyde said triumphantly, just as Token pulled into the driveway. "This is for the good of the students, Craig. Just imagine the cred we'll all get. We'll be like their heroes."

"Too bad everyone will be inclined to show up," Token remarked as he fished his backpack out from the trunk, leading the way up the stairs that led to the manor. His parents were out of town, and had explicitly said no parties, but Clyde could rope him into just about anything. "Don't you guys find it at least slightly worrisome? I mean, the society that we're living in, people are just so keen for these parties, and with school early the next morning? I'm probably still turning in early."

"The hell you are!"

Craig sighed as he trudged up the stairs behind his friends, Tweek lingering behind by only a few feet. Letting go of the blond had brought about a sudden physical chill. Craig truly didn't care for the concept of parties. Not that he much cared about school, but he liked savoring his sleep - he had always been the type of person who couldn't function on less than six hours, and was often forsaking his homework or hanging out with his friends for even an extra half hour of sleep. He needed it. 

He knew Tweek was just about his antithesis when it came down to sleep. The coffee was no longer just a formality; Tweek actually needed it in order to get through his days, often running on five or less hours of sleep. When he had to work at the coffee shop, homework was pushed to the back burner (he tried to do it at the counter, but twitchy hands often spilled coffee on his textbooks, so that ended that rather quickly). School didn't come easy for Tweek. He did okay, got good grades most of the time, but it was very stressful for him. He spent a lot of time perfecting assignments and projects. In class his attention was mostly divided - his eyes always darting around the room, concentrating more so on the tapping of feet or clicking of pens than actual lessons. 

He and Craig once tried filling out some college applications with one another, but it ended in Tweek having a panic attack and Craig taking a lengthy nap. Suffice to say, they never tried that again. Maybe they weren't quite so different, after all. 

"So I tweeted out about the party, and I sent it to everyone in my contacts, so you guys should definitely do that, too," Clyde was saying as they entered the rather spacious living room. He threw his backpack down on the floor with a hard thud. "Token, help me set up the keg. We should pull out everything else, too. Your parents have got a bottle or two laying around, right?"

The two headed into the kitchen with one another, mindlessly chatting away. Craig flopped down onto the couch with a loud sigh. He patted the spot next to him, and Tweek promptly sat down, pressed into the arm of the couch. Instantly, he brought his hand up close to his mouth, chewing at his nails - how he ever had any was far beyond Craig, as it seemed like he was constantly biting at them, right down to the skin. 

"I can walk you home if you want," Craig offered. Tweek lifted his head to look Craig in the eye, giving him a puzzled look. "I'm not really up for a party, either. We could hang out at your place, or mine. Whichever."

Tweek actually jumped at the concept, getting to his feet. "We can go to mine. My parents are working tonight, so the house will be empty."

Craig smiled, a rarity, and rose to his feet. He was glad they were at least on the same page. 


End file.
